In the cold soft blue winter light, morning,
You Walk.
No arm no more to hold you back in bed,
You walk.
No longer fighting days awake with “five more minute” sleep,
You walk.
The empty house you own, empty bed and empty thoughts,
You Walk.

You walk to be seen, to know you didn’t fade in night.
You walk to see and hear the voices full of life.
You walk to fix a point of motion, always moving forward or fall behind.
You walk to run from age, from dark night grave, from helpless plague.

In morning, so open, quick, the door, and to the street, to left or right maters not, only forward, away for all the still,
You Walk.